We ignored him. After the seriousness of our discussion outside the kitchen, I'd concluded that Andris was a lot more complex than he let on. He adopted different personas to suit each occasion, faking shallowness when he wasn't. No, change that. He could be shallow and rude, and childish, but he also had depth. He was amazing with electronics too.

Torin still waited and I wasn't playing.

"You made them cook something as part of the interview?" I asked instead.

Surprise flickered across his face. Not sure whether it was my calmness or question that caused it. "Just a dish and they couldn't get it right." He dumped the contents of two plates and reached for two more.

He'd shed his jacket and every time he reached up to put the spices back on the shelf, the shirt rode high and bared his abs. No sane woman could focus on cooking with his intoxicating presence around. I knew I wouldn't.

"Most of them thought if you just throw in spices everything would naturally turn out perfect," he continued. "And they called themselves cooks."

"No one can meet your impossible standards, bro," Andris called out from the other end of the counter before cutting something on his plate and putting it in his mouth. He ate with utter enjoyment. "He even had them sample what he'd cooked," he added. Despite his belly aching, Andris loved fine food. "If they couldn't identify at least two spices, they were out the door."

"Mrs. Willow did," Torin said. He dumped the entire content of a pan in the garbage. "She was the only one who understood that cooking is an art." He scooped a piece of something and offered it to me.

Our eyes met and the moment stretched. The air sizzled with so many emotions it hurt to breathe. If this was an olive branch, I was accepting it. Fighting with him could be emotionally draining. I opened my lips and he placed the morsel in my mouth. Flames leaped in his sapphire blue eyes.

I wanted to close the gap between us, but my taste buds exploded. "Whoa. That's good. Is that yours or hers?"

"Mrs. Willows." Torin pointed at the fork-licking Andris. "He's eating mine. She didn't even blink when I told her that sometimes she'll have to cook for twice the number of people. One woman had the nerve to ask if she gets a bonus for cooking for more people. Another asked if we were interested in a live-in housekeeper since our "mother" was out of town indefinitely. We didn't advertise for a live-in."

"She was perfect," Andris mumbled.

Torin shot him a disgusted look. "Don't you have something better to do?"

Andris pointed at his laptop. "Researching Witch stuff. After what we found out..." His eyes went to me and slid away. So they were determined to keep secrets. Great. The olive branch just broke. And I couldn't ask Andris to get my backpack now.

I started out of the kitchen. Behind me, I could hear them argue.

"There's plenty of time for that," Torin said. "You're on kitchen duty, so glove up."

"Again? Why me? Why can't Ingrid or Blaine do it? They're Immortals assigned to us, not the other way round. They are the ones who should be interviewing the housekeeper and doing chores around here. Blaine raids the kitchen after the lights are off and never cleans up after himself."

"One hour then turn off the oven, Andris."

I felt a little sorry for Andris. Blaine had lacrosse and Ingrid was at cheer practice. It didn't matter that Immortals assigned to Valkyries were supposed to lend them whatever support they needed. Torin wasn't too big on depending on other people.

He stepped into the hallway just before I entered the portal. "Where are you going?"

His place. "Home."

He laughed, the sound mocking me. Was I blowing this out of proportion? Surely, I'd better make sure he understood I wouldn't take crap from him now rather than later. His place was quiet. He had such a vibrant presence he tended to dominate his surroundings. Without him, his home lacked its usual appeal. Or maybe it was our fight messing with my head.

I checked the living room, then the kitchen, but my backpack wasn't there. I peeked into the garage. Nothing. Sounds came from upstairs. Dang it, he was back. I tiptoed and searched everywhere downstairs and came up empty, which meant he had it upstairs.

Sighing, I headed his way, racking my brains for solutions. He was going to make me beg. Try to anyway.

His door was open and I caught him changing. He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks and reached for his T-shirt. I usually enjoyed watching him pull his shirt off and on. Not today. I wanted him clothed and focused on what I was about to say. He pulled off his shirt and reached for his belt.

I stopped breathing. He pulled off his belt and unbuttoned his pants. Hel's Mist, he needed to stop.

"Torin!"

He turned and cocked an eyebrow, lips curled in a smirk. "I was sure you'd let me go all the way before stopping me."

My face burned. "You knew I was out here?"

"I knew you were downstairs snooping, Freckles. You make enough noise to wake up the dead. Knew when you made it upstairs. Felt your lustful eyes on me." He sauntered toward me, completely oblivious to the effect of his powerful body on me. Or not. He chuckled and I dragged my eyes from his washboard six pack and the fascinating thin line of hair disappearing under his waist band. "I can finish if you'd like."

He needed to stop playing games. Maybe if I started with what the pendant could do he might stop. "I need to show you something," I said and reached under my T-shirt for his seal pendant.

"Apologize first."

"Torin, this is not the time to play games."

"Who said I'm playing." He braced himself on the door frame and lowered his head until he and I were on the same eye level. "You told me to stay away from you. Unforgiveable. You implied our relationship might not survive. Totally wrong and cruel. But the worst part, you said your feelings for me make you weak." His eyebrows shot up. "Weak? What in Hel's Mist does that mean?"

He was serious. "Are you forgetting what happened before I said those things?"

Eyebrows shot up. "So no apology?"

"No." I was dying to, but he had to understand I wasn't a breakable doll.

He stepped back and slammed the door in my face.

My jaw dropped. No, he didn't. That arrogant man didn't just do that. I turned to walk downstairs, so angry I wanted to chuck something. Halfway down the stairs, I stopped and glared back, then at my phone, wishing I could send him a nasty text. Too bad he wouldn't see it.

I stomped back.

When I burst into his room, he was waiting. His eyes said he'd known I'd be back.

"Let me tell you exactly what I think of your tantrum, Valkyrie. It was unforgiveable. You don't slam the door in my face. Ever. You do it again and I'll... I'll... Where are you going? Torin?" I took a step back as he closed the gap between us. "What are you-?"

He scooped me up, my cell phone falling from my hand. "I have to be the bigger person and forgive you, Freckles. Now we make out."

I wanted that, but... "No, we're not." I wiggled to free myself. "I want to show you something."

His eyebrows rose. "Will I enjoy it?"

"I don't know."

"Will you enjoy it?" He wiggled his brows.

"You are a perv." My arms tightened around his neck, so he wouldn't drop me on the bed. "Stop being difficult."

He sighed. "You're no fun."

"I'm fun. Plenty. I mean I'm plenty of fun." I wiggled from his arms, picked up his shirt where he'd dropped it, and threw it at him. "Put it back on."

"No." He sprawled on the bed, stretched and leaned back against the pillows, his eyelids dropping. The look was sexy and irresistible. He knew how to turn up the heat, the snake.

"At least sit on the chair and turn off the sexiness."

He laughed. "Turn it off? That's impossible. I'm the essence of sexiness. The sum-of-all-your fantasies wrapped up and tied with a little... bow." Something on my face must have convinced him that I was serious.

"The things I give up for you. One day..." He got up, pulled up a chair, sat, crossed arms, and rested one leg on top of the other. He watched me with narrowed impatient eyes as I kicked off my flats and sat in the middle of the bed. When I pulled the pendant from under my shirt, he uncrossed his arms. His leg landed on the floor with a thud.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a voice that was no longer playful.

"Your pendant is magical. Watch this." I closed my hand around it and everything disappeared.

Next second, I was standing in a forest surrounded by trees stretching up to the dark sky. Stars winked innocently at me while gravel dug into my feet. I looked at my feet, but my blurry sight made it difficult to see much. So I used my other senses.

I was no longer barefoot. Whatever shoes I now wore were furry. My jeans and layered tees were a dark, heavy cloak lined with fur and my gloved hand was closed around a walking stick.

"Move," the same voice I'd heard in my earlier visions snarled from behind me.

I turned to glance at him, but he pushed me and I stumbled forward, almost tripping on the hem of the cloak. "Where are we?" I asked.

"What kind of question is that? You brought us here."

We entered a clearing. The placed shimmered like a mirage, but I could tell the place was already set for a ceremony. A large tree stump was in the middle of a circle made of dug out earth. There was no soil, so I knew the line wasn't fresh. This was a place for rituals. Runes were carved on the base of the stump and a smoldering fire sent aromatic smoke into the air.

"Open the circle," the voice commanded.

"She sees us, you know," I said. I wasn't watching this time. I was the Seeress, or seeing things through her eyes.

"Then she knows we are coming for her," Torin's Doppelganger said. "Get inside the circle and show us where they live."

I used the staff and waved it above a section of the dugout circle. It filled out, breaking the circle. Then something weird happened. I appeared to stay behind the circle while the Seeress stepped inside the circle. Now I could see that she wore a lot of furry things: boots, gloves, cap. Over her shoulder was a fur pelt. The circle closed, then she turned, pressed her hands together, and appeared to look directly at me.

"I will do the warding spell too," she whispered, "but you must protect the others. You must stop them from hurting our kind."

"Who are you talking to?" the guy with the British accent asked and I whipped around. Or should I say I floated around and faced him.

My heart stopped. Even through my jacked up eyesight, I recognized the same black hair and brilliant blue eyes. Torin.

"It's okay," Torin said, his arms tightening around me.

My first instinct was to wiggle out of his arms and put some distance between us. He was a killer. I might not know the people with him, but I'd recognized him. This didn't make sense.

"I'm fine." I sat up and tried to contain my panic, my mind racing. There had to be an explanation for what I'd seen. Torin was many things, but he wasn't a killer. The man I'd come to know wouldn't be. "I, uh, that's what I meant to show you. The amulet is magical. Every time I touch it I get a vision."

Torin sat on his haunches, carefully removed the amulet from my hand, and threw it in the chair he'd sat on. He peered at me, concern in his eyes. "What did you see?"

How do I accuse the man I loved of being a killer? He was innocent. He had to be. I slid off the bed, feeling like a traitor for believing what I saw, for suspecting him even for a second. "First, tell me what happened when I lost consciousness."

"Your eyes glowed golden-yellow then rolled into their sockets and you fell sideways. I tried to wake you, but you were so still. But your face," he shook his head, "I could tell you were terrified. I hate when I can't reach you or help. I can't take these trances."

I stood in front of the mirror and studied my eyes. They'd stopped glowing and my stomach roiled as I thought about the leader of the people killing the Seeresses. Maybe I'd superimposed Torin's face onto the killer's because of the accent. Or maybe it was because his face was the last thing I saw before I went into a trance.

The latter made sense. Yeah, that was it.

"Freckles?"

I rubbed my arms, suddenly feeling cold. Through the mirror, Torin watched me with an unreadable expression, hands in the front pockets of his pants. Shirt still off. I loved and trusted him. If, and that was a big if, he was the man in my vision and what I just saw was going to happen in the future, someone was going to make him do these things, which meant I had to find him help. Who would he search for in the future? Me? Did that mean we would be separated?

"This time, I saw things through the eyes of the Seeress. At least for a while. But when she entered the circle, we separated. She said she'd do the warding spell, but I must protect the others. What does warding mean?"

"Protecting. Did you see the killers?"

Yes. I shook my head. No, I didn't. It was my mind playing tricks on me. "No, but they were forcing her to hold a seance and find some people. The Seeress mentioned a 'she'. Said she was watching them, and the killer seemed pleased. Why is the pendant magical?"

Torin got off the bed and reached for his shirt. He pulled it on, his eyes not meeting mine. I had a feeling he didn't want to discuss this. He reached for his socks and shoved his feet into them.

I moved closer. "Torin?"

"It was my mother's," he said, his jaws tight. "I'm going to find out where Echo found it and why you are reacting to it."

"Whoa." I slid off the bed. "Your mother was a witch?"

He made a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. "No, Freckles. My mother was most definitely not a witch." Seriously, his distrust for witches made no sense whatsoever. But then he reached under him, pulled out the pendant, and said, "She was killed by one." My breath stalled in my chest at the anguish in his voice. "A very bad and evil witch."

The pain in his voice was raw and I reacted to it, our fight forgotten. I walked to him, wanting to touch him and ease his pain. I lifted his hands out of the way, sat on his lap and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Even though his arms wound my waist and his head rested on my chest, his body stayed rigid.

"She used it just before she died. She always kept it in her room. I saw her that night before it happened. She didn't see me because I was an Immortal and couldn't reveal myself. She didn't deserve to die the way she did, a sacrifice to a power-hungry Necromancer. I should have saved her. Would have if it weren't for Lavania and Valkyries laws."

He went quiet but I felt his sorrow all the way to my core. Even after centuries, he was still hurting and blaming himself. Torin rarely talked about the past, so this was new, and touching and sad. I fought tears and gently rubbed circles on his back, trying to absorb his pain. Now I understood why he hated witches.

"I hope you made her pay," I said.

"He. He got what was coming to him," he growled. "He and every last member of his coven."

He? I wanted to ask, but then I remembered that in the eleventh century, before the inquisitions and religious fanatics, magic was practiced by both men and women in England and Europe. "Tell me about her... your mother."

"Freckles-"

"Please." Maybe if he shared more of his past, he'd start to let go of the pain.

Wow, that sounded like something Lavania would say. Before she left with Mom, she'd told me to see Dad's dying as a journey to the next level and appreciate the wonderful moments he and I had together. At the time, I wanted to tell her to shut up. Now it made sense. Torin had been carrying pain and hurt for centuries because of the circumstances of his mother's death. He wasn't given a chance to say goodbye.

"What was she like? Was she nice or mean?"

He gave me a look that said I was pushing it. "She was loving and caring."

"Noble or a commoner?"

He smiled. "Noble. She was Norman, a descendant of the Vikings," he explained when I gave him a blank look. "Norman comes originally from the word Norseman."